


Loving Stars

by angelheadedhipster, FlameBlownWhiter, nitpickyabouttrains



Series: We Were Struck Down [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Kahn is winning, M/M, Violence against inanimate objects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameBlownWhiter/pseuds/FlameBlownWhiter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/pseuds/nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in our "We Were Struck Down"-verse. You can read the first fic, or just know the following:<br/>- Future Fic<br/>- Kahn is winning<br/>- The Enterprise has been destroyed</p><p>He had never spent so long in what essentially boiled down to just one room. And he found he was going stir crazy. Out of the windows he could see the vast wide expanses of space, with infinite unknowns that wanted for exploring.</p><p>Inside, however, it was just Kirk and Spock. The two of them, trying not to use up food or fuel. They had no plan, just hoping they would drift somewhere they could find help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving Stars

**Author's Note:**

> No Beta's were harmed in the creation of this fic, all errors are our own. 
> 
> +++ denotes change in character perspective  
> \--- denotes time jumping 
> 
> Also, we might write more, we might not, just... fair warning. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The shuttle was not that large, not meant for long distance travel or extended use. It was stocked with provisions meant to last a crew of four, what the vessel was designed to hold, for about a week. Kirk figured that meant it would last him and Spock twice that much time, maybe longer if Spock did not wake up soon.

Kirk glanced next to him, but no, Spock was still out cold. He had not thought he had hit Spock with too much power, but maybe in the heat of the moment, the phaser had been turned a little past stun. Kirk stuck out a finger and prodded Spock lightly, but the Vulcan just let out an undignified grunt.

With a sigh, Kirk turned back to the window.

Once they had gotten far enough away from the Enterprise, Kirk turned off the engines and put the shuttle into the most basic drive. Enough to support life functions, enough to live on, but that was it. He wanted to save fuel, so conserve their resources, so that when Spock woke up and they came up with a plan, they would be able to enact it.

And until then, they were just floating, aimlessly, among the stars.

He stared out at the expanse of space that lay around him. In another situation, the view would have been beautiful. Kirk lived for this, it was the captain in him, the longing to go farther, to explore new spaces. But how could he think like that now? Was he still a captain if he had no ship? The _Enterprise_ was gone, completely destroyed.

His mind turned to his crew, to the people that made the _Enterprise_ home. What had happened to Bones? To Sulu? To Chekov and Scotty? Had they made it someplace safe?

Kahn’s attack on the ship had been a surprise, they had not been prepared. And they paid the price. Worse, he had gotten away. Again. Kahn was still out there, no doubt chasing them down, looking for Spock.

There was a stir on the ground, drawing him back into the shuttle, out of his head and the dark and the stars. Kirk was relieved to see that Spock was starting to move. He watched, waiting for Spock to open his eyes.

Kirk was rewarded when Spock’s long black lashes began to twitch and then his pale, nearly translucent lids flew open, revealing confused burnished-tawny eyes.

“Welcome back,”  Kirk said, his words calm but his voice filled with concern.

Spock blinked up at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before he spoke. “You shot me.”

“I had to.” Kirk shrugged like it was no big deal. “You weren’t listening to me and we were running out of time. Besides,” he tossed off with a smirk, “Kahn would have kicked your ass in hand to hand combat.”

“He took Lt. Uhura’s life,” Spock said, eyes now blazing as he sat up. “You had no right, even if I was unable to control myself.”

Kirk could feel some of his irritation seeping into his tone. “I took control for you. I needed you with me, to come up with a plan. So we can take Kahn down.”

+++

Spock opened his eyes and bright blue ones stared back at him. He remembered. For an instant, it wasn’t his friends warm eyes looking back at him, it was the glacial blue of Kahn’s. The candle that was always in his mind - the one his teachers taught him to project when he was a child, the one with the serene steady flame, the one that never went out - raged. The fire shot up to the heavens, illuminated his mind and the dark parts of his soul; the parts that sang, and drummed, and hummed for retribution – for the crunch of Kahn’s skull and the slick of his blood on his hands.   

“Welcome back,”  Kirk said, his words sounding unnaturally calm to Spock’s ears.

Spock blinked, momentarily leaving the captain and the shuttle behind, returning to his mind. He needed to quiet the flame, get his emotions under control – the captain wasn’t safe with him, andhe didn’t seem to know it. He imagined a wind tunnel, drawing up all the excess flame, all the excess emotion, and delivering it elsewhere. His heart beat in protest, he wasn’t ready to let go quite yet, though the situation demanded it. When the wind tunnel left, the flame wasn’t steady and calm, it was flickering wildly, brighter and bigger than before the incident, but manageable.   

He looked up to Kirk, an accusation on his lips. “You shot me.”

“I had to,” Kirk shrugged and Spock momentarily imagined punching him. “You weren’t listening to me and we were running out of time. Besides,” Jim smirked, “Kahn would have kicked your ass in hand to hand combat.”

The candle flamed and sparked in his mind. “He took Lt. Uhura’s life,” Spock said, as the electric blue of his friend’s stare enraged him further. His hand clenched, Spock felt every muscle in every finger, the strength in his first, the pull of his tendons. It would be too easy. _Yes, Spock, do you feel it, that anger? We are so much closer, so much more similar, than_ she and you _will ever be._

Spock breathed, Kahn’s words rang in his head and he quieted his heart. Logic, he had to find peace in logic. “You had no right, even if I was unable to control myself.”

Kirk was irritated, he squinted, the corner of his eyes crinkled as he talked. “I took control for you. I needed you with me, to come up with a plan. So we can take Kahn down.”

Kirk’s words were selfish, but logical. The Captain would need him to take down Kahn – Jim was too honorable, too trusting to think the way a killer thinks. Convenient then that logic was a cold sort of thinking and Spock rarely had that problem.

The light in his mind dimmed, as he found something near his center. “What is the status of the rescue pods and shuttles?”  His voice finally sounded controlled to his ears.

Kirk sighed, “It always freaks me out when you do that.”

“Sir?” Spock looked at Jim, one long eyebrow drawn down into a question.

“But this time I am grateful. I need your mind, Spock, not your emotions.” Spock nodded in understanding. Jim ran his hands through his hair, the blonde strands springing back in place, one by one, as if never disturbed. “Okay!” Jim, swiveled his chair around to face his station, his hands landing heavily on the console, “We need to find the others and we need to find somewhere safe.”

Spock looked at his station, his training kicking in, his fingers flying across the touch screens at a rapid pace. “Sir, we may have a problem.”

“Another problem?” Kirk flinched.

“Yes, our fuel tank was punctured by some debris, we do not have the capability for another warp jump, and we are skirting very close toward Romulan space."

"Great!" The captain sarcastically exclaimed, "We'll run out of gas at the same time we run out of food and water, perfect." Kirk turned to Spock. "Unless you see another pod, maintain radio silence, the Romulans must not find us here."

"For once, Captain, we are in agreement." Spock said, dimming the cabin lights and setting a slow course away from the Neutral Zone.

"You've only agreed with me once, Spock? You wound me."

"You did stun me, sir." Spock quirked an eyebrow.

"Fair."

Maybe he and Jim would be OK.

 

\- - -

 

Much to Kirk’s surprise, after days stuck in the shuttle, he found himself feeling claustrophobic. Given that he was a captain of a vessel that traveled in space, he was shocked to learn this about himself. But then, he had never been in so small a ship, for so long. The _Enterprise_ was a behemoth; you could get lost in her, she was so big. But this shuttle was the opposite.

He had never spent so long in what essentially boiled down to just one room. And he found he was going stir crazy. Out of the windows he could see the vast wide expanses of space, with infinite unknowns that wanted for exploring.

Inside, however, it was just Kirk and Spock. The two of them, trying not to use up food or fuel. They had no plan, just hoping they would drift somewhere they could find help.

Kirk paced, back and forth, over and over, across the width of the tiny shuttle. He was frustrated at the predicament he found himself in. He was better when there was something to be done, even if it was something stupid and reckless. Not all of this waiting, it made him feel useless. It gave him too much time to think about all that had been lost, Uhura and his ship.

Feeling the only other pair of eyes in the small space boring into the back of his neck, Kirk paused on his turn and looked at Spock. Spock looked as cool and collected as ever, sitting in front of a screen at his station. He was watching Kirk, bright tawny eyes taking in each movement as if hoping to glean some information.

"Why are you staring at me?" Kirk asked, the restlessness coming out as anger.

"I mean to deduce what good your striding across the vessel might be doing." Spock sounded as clinical as ever.

For some reason this ignited Kirk's rage. He knew Spock was half Vulcan, but he also knew he could feel. How was this situation not be getting to him more? He spit out, "We saw our ship destroyed! How can you be so calm?"

"Allowing my emotions to take control of this situation would not aid us in any way," Spock said. "It would not be logical."

"Fuck logic," Kirk cursed, his own anger now at a boiling point.

Spock's lips ticked down just a fraction, in contemplation. His eyes glistened ever so slightly, as if there was something on his mind. He paused, for just a second, in which Kirk hoped he might change his mind. But then Spock just said, "I cannot."

"Damn it, Spock," Kirk yelled.

He wanted to fall back on what he knew worked. He wanted to do something physical. He wanted to hit something. But he knew Spock did not deserve it. Still, his frustration needed an outlet.

He pulled back his arm, his fingers already balled up as he had attempted to control himself. He gave that up now.

He let his arm swing.

All his anger, his frustration, his confusion went into the force of his hand. And he punched with all his might.

Hitting the wall with all the power he could muster, Kirk found he felt relief. This lasted for only a moment. Then there was pain.

Violent shocks of pain shot up his arm. They laced like a web around his fingers and bolted through his veins. All of the connected muscles of his appendage ached. His bones felt bruised and abused. And Kirk was glad for it. He was happy for the pain because it was feeling something, something other then helpless.

He let his arm drop from the wall, back to his side. The skin around his knuckles was cut open from hitting the metal. Blood ran through his fingers, and dropped onto the ground like tears of scarlet.

A physical manifestation of his loss.

The gratifying shot of adrenaline was suddenly gone and James T. Kirk felt something he was all too familiar with: foolishness. He really didn't want to look at Spock right now, or guess what the Vulcan might be thinking. Instead he concentrated on the pain in his hand, the burning fire in his knuckles. It took two people to fly this shuttle, he had to make sure he didn't break his hand.

He pivoted his arm up and looked down at his fingers. Slowly, he willed them to move --

Black bled into his vision, his knees buckled under him and suddenly he was on the floor - his good hand cradling his wrist - panting for air. Definitely broken then, and in several places.

His violent blue eyes risked a quick glance at where he hit the wall - no damage. Well, _damn._ Shuttle: 1, Kirk: 0.

A sudden shock of blue entered his vision, disorienting him, causing him to look down on the grated floor in order not to lose balance. He shook his head, he could feel the sweat sticking to him like a second skin. Was he going into shock?

Strong hands lifted him up by the shoulders, _Spock,_ he realized, and sat him back down onto his chair. The Vulcan was saying something, but it was hard to make out - there was a high pitched buzz in his ear. James squinted, his blue eyes fiercely concentrating on his friend’s mouth.

It was a nice mouth, he realized suddenly. A cupid’s bow mouth, he liked how it curled up at the end, just a little, even when Spock was trying to be serious.

Kirk smiled, "You have a nice mouth."

Spock stopped what he was doing, dropping his finger from Kirk's eyelids, gently checking for signs of shock. He didn't seem to need to anymore.

"Captain - "  

"It goes a little -- " Kirk attempted to lift his hand, his intention was to do some sort of loopy thing, to show Spock how his lips curled up at the end, but the sudden pain caused him to groan and grasp onto the injured wrist again.

This was not one of his finer moments.

"Captain, look at me."

Spock's calm voice drifted into him in waves. Using, what felt like all of his strength, he looked at his first officer. _His only officer,_ his mind cruelly supplied.

Spock's large brown eyes were creased with concern, but something about them, something about their steady nature, their consistency, strengthened Kirk. Abruptly he realized Spock was saying something.

" -- the medical kit. It is going to be back towards the loading bay, so I have to let go. Can you sit upright on your own?"

Spock was still holding onto his shoulders? How had he not realized that until now? Spock's hands were heavy, pressing into him, keeping him still. They _felt_ \-- shit, he really was in shock -- his body felt cold.

"Jim?"  Kirk nodded, or at least he thought he did. Spock looked a little less anxious for a second. "I need you to confirm that you can support yourself here for approximately a minute and fifteen seconds."

"Yes, Spock, I can hold myself up for 75 seconds." It was quiet, but it was out there. His body started shaking, why was it so damn cold?

Spock's weight left him, he felt light, like he could float away. He could hear the hurried footsteps of his first officer, the hiss of a sealed compartment decompressing, but it all felt so far away.

He tried to move his hand again, but the pain was too intense. He just sat and waited for Spock to return. He was visibly shivering when a heavy warm blanket covered him. He gripped it with his good hand, as Spock, suddenly visible, started swaddling him, leaving his injured wrist out and balanced on his knee.

"Am I in shock?"

Spock's eyes were serious and dark. "Yes, though that is unsurprising. You hit starship-grade duranium with maximum force. I believe you may have shattered a majority of the bones in your hand and broken a few of your carpal bones."

"You aren't a medical Doctor."

Spock smirked, "Doctor Bones would be more skilled than I in human physiology, but I studied anatomy for a number of years, as well as intermediate medicine." Spock put his hand gently on Kirk's knee, next to his broken hand. "Now, I need to check to see which bones are broken."

Kirk looked down at his hand, it was red, purple, and black in some places. The pain wasn't sharp like knives, it had dulled to a consistent and painful throb, like the high pitched whine in his ear. "I'm an idiot."

"Yes, but that is also unsurprising."

+++

Kirk laughed, and then winced, his eyes squinting as he looked at the blood in his hand. He sighed heavily, and then looked up, his face still contorted in pain. Spock watched as Kirk's eyes found his, that bright swirling blue sharpening as his eyes focused on Spock's. Kirk grinned, some of the tension going out of his body.

"I'm sorry, man," he said.

"Apology accepted," said Spock, rifling through the medical bag to find an appropriate painkiller hypospray. "Though given that the shuttle took the brunt of the attack, perhaps it is her you should be apologizing to."

Kirk laughed. His body loosened more, relaxing in front of Spock, assuming it's long easy grace again. Spock went through the motions of tending to Kirk, cleaning, sterilizing, bandaging, his mind elsewhere. It was not the first time he'd watched Jim Kirk's eyes spin and then settle on his own.  It was like, Spock mused, like watching the ocean in a storm, turbulent blues and whites, and then seeing the sun come out, the sea calming, stillness out of chaos. He had watched him wake up from concussions, from surgery, even from death. Stood next to him as planets exploded, as ships burned, as Kirk's life spun out of control, and always, always, those ice blue eyes found him in the wreckage, found Spock, and touched down.

It surprised him, every time. He was surprised, and flattered, that of all the points in the universe, everything those eyes had seen, Jim Kirk looked to him for a place to land.

He finished taping Kirk's knuckles. Kirk was quieter now, his muscles relaxing as the painkillers took hold, slack and pliant where Spock touched him.

"Do you feel better now?" Spock asked.

Kirk looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting. "Better than I did a few minutes ago?" he asked. His voice was slurred a bit. Perhaps he had overestimated Kirk's size in his dosing calculations. "Or better than before I punched a wall for no reason?"

Spock found the corner of his mouth quirking up, just like Jim had said. "Both, I suppose."

Kirk looked thoughtful, his eyebrows furrowing. "Better than before," he decided, "worse than before before." Definitely too strong a dose. It might knock Kirk out entirely, actually. Which would not necessarily be a bad thing - sleeping would help him heal.

Spock was kneeling in front of Kirk's chair now, hands on the other man's knees. He started to rise, and Kirk grabbed at his wrist with his good hand. "No!" he said, the anguish in his voice startling Spock.

"No, Jim?"

"Stay," said Jim. His voice was clear and controlled, if slightly higher in pitch than Spock had normally observed. Kirk smiled. Not his usual ‘look out, world’ grin, more of a gentle, hesitant expression. "Not worse than before. Better, now.

"Better?"

"Better," Jim said. He nodded definitively, as if the motion of his chin had to convince Spock to stay. "With you. Better."

After that, it took only four more minutes for the captain's pulse to slow to resting rate, and for his eyelids to close. Spock stayed for ten.

With Jim asleep in his chair, there was nothing for Spock to do except return to his station and monitor the ever-lessening fuel and the ever-expanding stars around them. Spock felt his mind still, absent distractions, and the familiar emptiness crept over him. Grief. It was all he'd felt for days now, a grey mistiness that settled over him, numbed him. Uhura was dead. Nothing would bring her back. She was lost to him, forever. He reflected, briefly, how used he was to grief now, and spared a masochistic moment to wonder whether the pain of losing an entire race was worse than the pain of losing one person he loved dearly, but was unable to come to a conclusion.

They floated onwards, lost amidst the stars. Kirk slept for three hours and twenty seven minutes. Spock checked on him every ten minutes, not more often than that. More often than that really would be excessive. Unless that shifting noise was Kirk falling off the chair and he had to be sure...no, he was fine. Every ten minutes. No more.

Spock stared out the window and thought about Uhura's laugh, the skin at the back of her neck, her flawless Romulan dialect pronunciation. Every thought of her was a knife across his skin. He tried to be dispassionate, to think of her flaws and the things he had disliked about her, but those hurt more, even. The knowledge that they would never argue again hadn't occurred to him yet, and he felt a fresh wave of rage, roiling at his stomach, causing his nostrils to flare.

"My mouth tastes like something died in it," said a voice behind him.

Spock turned.

"Also, how could you let me pass out in this chair?" said Kirk. "My neck is killing me."

"I did not let you, Captain," said Spock. "You were the one who fell asleep, and you would not let me move you. Where would I have put you, anyway?"

"I'm going to blame you for it," said Kirk.

"And your sudden aggression towards starship walls? Am I accountable for that as well?

"Obviously," said Kirk, his eyes dancing again. The painkillers appeared to have worn off, and his hand must be hurting. It was swelling now, pink and bloated under the wrappings. "It's absolutely your fault, for sitting there and looking so calm and logical and pleasant."

Spock felt his eyebrow quirk at that, and quickly tried to control his reaction to Kirk's mocking words. Although...perhaps he did not need to. Perhaps not every emotional response needed to be tamped down. Kirk was his friend. He remembered Jim's eyes a few hours ago, endlessly wide and blue, looking into his. _Better, with you._

"Pleasant is...not how I would describe my state of mind aboard this vessel," he said, watching for Kirk's reaction.

The blue in his eyes clouded immediately, a rush of navy blotting out some of it's brightness. "I know, Spock, I'm sorry I said that," he said. Spock wondered what it would be like to react so visibly to things, to have every rush of emotion immediately bloom in big luminous eyes. Although perhaps not everyone could read Kirk as well as Spock could, with his years of practice and study in a variety of complex conditions.

"Spock?" said Kirk.

"Yes," said Spock, bringing himself back to the conversation. "I take no offense at your comments, Captain," he said. "I...this has not been an easy time for either of us."

"Worse for you," said Kirk, his voice quiet. "I know how much you loved her.

The fire in his mind exploded, dancing in his eyes, flames licking throughout his body, although all Kirk could see was a small motion of his mouth. Spock very deliberately turned his chair around, looking back out at the stars, not looking at the wash of pale blue, so blue it was almost white, like ice over water, that he knew would be looking at him.


End file.
